


We Discussed It

by storybycorey



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storybycorey/pseuds/storybycorey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little drabble from the prompt "Things you said that I wasn't meant to hear".</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Discussed It

We discussed it. We discussed it to death. Or at least as close as you can get to death when you’re buried beneath the wonder of sighs and suckles and murmurs and miracles. 

We discussed it. And it is the most terrible idea I’ve ever had the pleasure of possessing. Absolutely fucking terrible. Awful. 

But we discussed it. And it is our only option.

I am already in awe of her. One night, and she has already surpassed my every expectation. How does she know? How does she know how to be a mother? I feel like I could surround myself with him for years, yet still never know. 

How to be a father. 

I still wouldn’t know how to gaze into his eyes, how to smile in that way that tells him he is everything. Entirely and without doubt. Everything. 

But she knows. She’s known how to do that forever. She’s looked at me like that so many times I’ve forgotten what it was like not to love her. Even before everything. She’s looked at me like that almost from the beginning. 

That look is my sustenance, my air. I’ll die without that look. And yet I’m walking away. He needs that look more than I do now. At least that’s what I try to tell myself.

Her skin last night—between feedings and discussions and fitful sleep—I pressed her into my tongue, sucked her into my lungs, tried to gather every last inch of her inside my body. To parcel out in the months to come, inch by agonizing inch. 

What if I run out of her before I return?

We cried. We held each other and kissed away tears, and I told her I loved her. She believed me this time. 

And when she whispered those same words against my own lips, I thought I would die there, her hair slippery like satin and our son laying only an arm’s length away. 

When I finally fell asleep (I fought against it valiantly, but lost), I dreamt of the three of us alone on an island. Scully in a bikini and windblown hair, William naked in the sand, and me, so fucking happy I couldn’t see straight.

But when I woke, he was fussing, and I was lying in her bed with dried tears down my cheeks and no sand in sight. 

She took him to the other room to nurse, and I didn’t follow. One day, I would have said I’d follow her forever. But that was until last night. Until we discussed it. 

The soft melody of her voice bleeding through the cracks is too much to resist though. She’s a glorious pied piper to my lovesick rat. These are the last notes I’ll hear her play for so very long. 

Slumping in the doorway, I listen.

Eyes closed and lips against his downy head, she murmurs, “I love him so much, Will. I love him with a ferocity I never thought possible. I’m scared to let him go. But we have to do this. It has to happen this way. It has to.” 

Her voice is far away and lost, and it spirals through my body right into my soul, “We discussed it.”

I wail silently into the wall of her bedroom and wonder whether I should allow myself to fall apart. At least if I crumble into a million pieces, one or two could stay. 

One with her. 

And one with William.


End file.
